


The Best of What Is Given

by AldreaAlien



Series: Daylen Amell [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4116454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AldreaAlien/pseuds/AldreaAlien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I really have no plot for this, it started off as a fluffy drabble, then segued it's way into other things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best of What Is Given

The sure press of hands ran up Zevran's back, gently kneading his already relaxed muscles. The touch was more than the subtle warmth of skin on skin. There was a deep buzz that could only be his lover's magic. Tingly in such an enjoyable way, it seeped into his bones. He groaned, too exhausted to do anything else.

Daylen hummed, halting his impromptu massage. "Are you all right?"

"Mhmm." _All right_ did not do what he felt justice. He was far beyond _all right_. Ecstatic was more fitting to how he felt. _And exhausted_. Utterly so.

"Tsk. Still no words." His lover's breath was hot on his ear. Zevran did not need to see the man's face to know he teased. "You certain I haven't broken my favourite assassin?"

A lazy grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. How many times had he egged his lover on, claiming he would not break no matter what the man did? "Not at all." The words rasped. He swallowed, his throat still a little sore. Up until this morning, his dear Warden had always been so… reserved in their lovemaking. Who knew there was such a wicked man hiding in those robes?

It had been fun, no complaints there, but he had not expected this little pre-dawn tumble to be so… intense. Or, that after six years apart, for his lover to have remembered all the things that left him completely at the man's mercy, let alone for him use them all at once until he was reduced to an incomprehensible mess.

He lifted himself off the mattress, barely moving before his back brushed Daylen's chest. "Did you wish to go again?"

"Alas." His lover's lips fell upon the point of Zevran's ear. They worked their way down, hot and wet, then suddenly sharp as Daylen's teeth latched onto his earlobe.

Despite himself, Zevran bucked against the bed. There'd been a lot of 'despite himselves' in the past half-hour as his lover worked his sinful magic. A spark here, the right amount of heat there, a kiss in the exact spot that made him tremble.

Daylen's mouth fell upon his shoulder, to the mark his teeth had left in Zevran's flesh. In the midst of it all, he'd forgotten his lover was quite the biter. "I think we both need the rest." His lips brushed the injured skin, the dull ache receding as Zevran felt the cool thread of the mage's healing touch.

Somewhere out on the courtyard, a horn sounded. The sun was up. The mattress shifted as his lover clambered off the bed. Vigil's Keep was no longer under the same threat they'd faced in the months after the Blight, but there was always something that needed the Warden Commander's urgent attention. And Daylen seemed all too happy to play the part.

Zevran watched his lover walk across the room, gathering his clothes from the floor and furniture. He grinned. Not entirely steady on his feet was his lover, his… _Husband_. His gaze dropped to his bare fingers. His dear Warden had convinced the Mother who oversaw Vigil Keep's chapel to hold such a ceremony the night before last. They'd exchanged only words in relative privacy, but it made it no less real. They were… married. It sounded strange to think. Stranger still to feel such warmth upon thinking the word. It _was_ just a word, after all.

The glimmer of red caught his eye. The leather-encased phylactery he kept tied around his neck lay on the pillow. This close to its owner, the contents glowed its brightest, red light leaking through the seams. He traced a finger up the worn stitching. Six years of carrying this little vial close to his heart, falling asleep with its gentle glow, knowing his dear Warden had survived another day…

"Zev?"

He lifted his head. Daylen stood fully dressed. Not in the usual Grey Warden armour Zevran had seen on the men and women he'd passed on his way here, but in the dark green robes his lover so favoured. Even so, he looked no less than a confident Commander of the Grey. _His_ confident commander.

"Are you hungry? Or are you planning on lying there all day?" He flashed a wide grin and shook his head. "I don't know… Trying to sleep after sunrise, so scandalous."

Scandalous or not, sleep sounded good. The bed was soft and warm. He could drift off quite easily knowing Daylen was nearby. Zevran opened his mouth, about to refuse moving when his stomach growled its own opinion, loudly.

Daylen laughed. It was a pleasant sound, one Zevran had missed hearing. "If you want feeding, you'll have to get dressed."

Zevran eyed his clothes, just as scattered around the room as Daylen's had been. "If you are expecting me to stand, you'll be waiting for some time."

His lover landed on the bed with a thud. "Aw, my poor tired Zev."

With their foreheads pressed together, Zevran had a clear view of the wrinkles his lover had gained in his absence. Not just from mere age. Worry, overextending himself and the constant lack of sleep had all left their mark. No scars, he was happy to note. Here or on his body. Whatever opponents Daylen met, he'd faced them with enough mana left to knit himself back together.

So transfixed with the sight of his lover's face, he almost didn't catch Daylen's smirk. "What if I carried you down?"

A small chuckle shook Zevran's body. If there was one thing his lover lacked, it was upper body strength. Oh he was lean, pleasantly so, and he'd witness the man put down several darkspawn with a swing of his staff, but he wasn't _that_ strong. " _You_ , my dear Warden, could not lift me on your best day."

Daylen gasped, rocking his head to one side and clutching at his chest. "You wound me."

"Never, _mi amor_." His gaze slid to the earring the man still wore in his right ear, the one Zevran had gifted to him not long before they defeated the Archdemon. He inched closer, managing to snake his tongue around the earring, chuckling as his lover's breath hitched at the brush of his teeth.

A knock at the door had Daylen squirming out of his reach and sitting upright.

"My lord?" A woman called from the other side. "I d-don't mean to intrude, but the nobles have arrived. They're waiting in the great hall."

"Shit," Daylen muttered, flopping back onto the bed.

Chuckling to himself, Zevran propped himself on one arm and caressed the side of the man's neck. "I have distracted my fierce commander from his duties, yes?"

He raked his hair back from his face and, grinning, rolled over, his weight pinning Zevran to the bed. "You absolute tease," he murmured.

"Ser?" There was a pause as if the woman was deciding whether or not she should dare to enter. "They are quite insistent."

Sighing, his dear Warden scrambled off the bed. "Tell the nobles I'll be right there!" Swearing under his breath, he fussed with his clothing and ran is fingers through his hair to tame the black mass. Seemingly satisfied, he faced Zevran once more, bending over him. "You know I love you, right?"

He froze, letting the declaration slip down his throat. It wasn't the first time he'd heard such words from his dear Warden. After a time that seemed like forever, he managed a smile. "You've told me many times, _amor_. But you speak as if you face another Archdemon. Truly, the fabled Hero of Ferelden has the nobles wrapped around his little finger."

Daylen's nose wrinkled at the mention of his legendary title. "That's the problem," he muttered. "I've been attempting to do something with the lead Morrigan gave me on halting the Calling for years and _every time_ I try to leave…" He sighed, his head drooping. "Even handing over command is proving trying."

Zevran brushed his lover's hair back, hooking the strands behind an ear, revealing the man's face. "I do wish you'd told me of the Calling sooner." He didn't want to think on it, didn't want to believe Daylen could be snatched from his grasp at a moment's notice by the taint.

Those dark eyes lifted. Their gazes locked for a long time until he finally spoke. "Would you have gone to Antiva if I had?"

He glanced away. _Maybe… Maybe not_ … Daylen hadn't exactly given him a chance to make that decision. "Go. Your adoring public awaits you."

Their lips met, soft and brief. Then, all too soon, Daylen was across the room and out of reach. He paused in opening the door. "Don't get too comfortable. If this meeting drags on, I might need rescuing." He was gone before Zevran could respond, dragging the chamber's warmth in his departure.

Zevran clutched at the phylactery, bringing it to his lips, feeling its heat pulsing against his mouth. It wasn't the man's absence that'd sucked the heat from the room or left him with an uneasy leaden feeling in his gut. _Thirty years_. That was the upper limit. Few Grey Wardens reached it. So they'd two more decades at best.

Absently giving the leather-bound vial a kiss, he clambered to his feet and swiftly dressed. If there was one thing he knew how to do well, it was making the best of what was given.

**Author's Note:**

> They got married, you can't tell me otherwise. I won't listen.


End file.
